


Coffee

by penvision



Category: Power Rangers, Power Rangers (2017)
Genre: Angst, Brotp, Established Relationship, F/F, Family, Fluff, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Smut, Trini x Zack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-15 06:46:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10551850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penvision/pseuds/penvision
Summary: Trini struggles to wrap her mind around the idea that Kim likes her, that Kim wants to be her girlfriend. (mentions of homophobia)(panic attacks)





	1. Chapter 1

Kimberly steps into the crowded coffee shop and immediately scans along the walls for open tables. She feels a hand slip into hers, fingers intertwining, and glances over to find Trini, already lightly blushing, taking in the menu like she does not have it memorized. Like she does not order the exact same thing at every coffee shop, every time. Kim loves that she knows Trini well enough now to know that she finds comfort in her habits and routines; loves that she has changed some of her old ones and created new to allow the four of them, especially Kim, into her daily life.

She stares openly at her girlfriend and smirks as Trini’s blush deepens. Trini does not look at her, not yet, but she tugs their joined hands a little in invitation and Kim steps into her space, their arms flush. Kim sees a couple grab one of the few free tables out of the corner of her eye, takes in the line in front of them, and offers; “I’ll grab a table while you order?”

Trini turns to face her and Kim takes her other hand. “What are you in the mood for?”

“You.” Trini rolls her eyes, trying to look annoyed, but her small smile betrays her. Kim squeezes her hands, silently asking, and Trini tilts her chin up, lifts on her toes. Kim meets her halfway for a chaste kiss. “Chocolate.”

“Okay.” Trini lets their hands drop and steps back toward the counter. She pauses mid turn and glances at her shoes before wrapping a hand in Kim’s jacket and pulling her down for another, longer kiss.

“Okay.” Kim rests their foreheads together and they both smile. She brushes Trini’s nose and Trini kisses her one more time before stepping away and reestablishing her personal space.

She manages to beat another couple to the last open table against the wall, slipping into the chair just as they start to set down their coffee cups. They both glare at her. She glares back, challenging them to say something, and they leave with a huff. Part of her feels terrible for being rude, but Trini slides into the booth seat a few minutes later, her back against the wall, the tension she carries in her shoulders dropping away, and Kim forgets all about them. This is another thing that Kim knows about Trini; that she hates having her back exposed. They do not talk about it, but Kim has seen the graffiti on her locker, has heard the racist, homophobic slurs stage whispered as she walks in the hallways, has noticed her seek out the desks in the back of classrooms, the last row at the theater, the side tables at restaurants.

Trini places three chocolate glazed donuts between them and slides Kim her drink, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Mocha latte for you.”

“Coffee with two creams and two sugars for you.” Kim takes her drink and pulls a few ones out of her pocket. “Thank you.”

Trini waves the money away, “you paid last time.”

Kim puts the money back and picks up one of the forks, cutting into a donut. “It’s been four months, and we only went the one time, but I still feel like I’m cheating on Krispy Kreme with their less attractive twin or something.”

“Kim,” Trini reaches across the table and covers the hand Kim has wrapped around her latte with her own, her expression mock serious.

Kim raises an eyebrow and pops the donut piece into her mouth. She watches Trini’s eyes follow the donut and licks her lips. Trini subconsciously licks her own. “Trini.”

Trini meets her eyes again, that faint blush returning to color her cheeks. Kim loves how easily her tough girlfriend blushes around her. She knows Trini hates it. “This is our third trip to Dunkin Donuts this week. I think you may have a coffee problem.” Trini smirks and squeezes her hand, starts to pull back as she takes a sip of her coffee.

Kim lets go of the carboard cup and curls her fingers around Trini’s, matching her smirk, rubs her foot on Trini’s calf under the table. “More like a cute girl problem.”

Trini sputters on her coffee as Kim grazes the underside of her wrist with her nails; one of her more sensitive spots. “What?”

Kim leans forward and drops her voice conspiratorially, licks her lips again, “want to know a secret?”

Trini’s blush spreads down her neck. “I- uh-“

“I don’t even like coffee.” Trini’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and Kim sits back with a smug smile.

“What? No, that…” Trini’s brows furrow as she plays with Kim’s fingers absentmindedly, thinking. “You’ve been letting me drag you to coffee shops twice a week for three- no, four months, buying overpriced lattes and cappuccinos, and you don’t even like coffee?” Kim shakes her head. “Why?”

Kim laces their fingers together, offering Trini an anchor from her thoughts, and waits until her girlfriend’s wandering gaze settles on her. “Because you like coffee. And I wanted to get to know you.”

“Because we just became Power Rangers.”

Kim brings their hands to her lips and kisses her knuckles, her palm, the inside of her wrist where she teased. Trini drops her hand and brushes her fingers against Kim’s cheek, tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Because I had a crush on you.”

Trini’s hand freezes and she sputters again. “You did? I mean- you like me?”

Kim raises an eyebrow and smirks. “Trini, we’re dating. I more than like you. You’ve seen me topless.” Trini groans and lets her hand fall to the table as her head falls back against the wall, eyes closed, her blush returning full force to the tips of her ears and disappearing under her top. Kim’s fingers itch to follow it, to see just how far down under her shirt her skin flushes. She can picture it perfectly and has to fight her own groan bubbling in her throat. “Trini,” Kim rubs her calf again and Trini squirms, “are you thinking about me topless?”

“Well if I wasn’t before I am now.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah?” Trini blinks her eyes open, shy, like she still cannot believe that Kim could like her like that. Kim hates it; hates everything that has happened to Trini to make her so insecure, so easily spooked, even if she does not know what those things were yet.

“Maybe later.” Kim winks and Trini swallows hard, bites her lip. Kim decides to give her a break before either of them get too worked up and pulls her foot back. “When did you start to drink coffee? It must’ve been pretty young.”

Trini lifts her head and flashes a small smile, grateful for the change in conversation. “Why do you say that?”

Kim shrugs and sips at her latte, nonchalant, “I read somewhere that it stunts your growth.”

Trini glares. “I hate you.”

Kim sits up straight so that she is looking down at her girlfriend. “You’re just so tiny.”

Trini pouts, mumbling “I’m not that tiny,” under her breath, and Kim gently knocks their feet together under the table to let her know that she is done teasing. She does not expect Trini to tell her; she knows her girlfriend usually only opens up after dark; around their campfires or cuddled up into Kim on her couch, in her bed. Reveals herself to them, to her, piece by piece. She is used to their comfortable silences, so she cuts off another piece of the donut and relaxes into her chair.

Trini takes a deep, settling breath and takes her own bite of the donut. “My dad leaves for work before seven, comes home after five and shuts himself in his office until dinner. Always has, since I was little.” Another bite of donut. She chews slowly, weighing her words. “I used to get up extra early on school days and just… sit in the kitchen with him while he drank his morning cup of coffee. Tell him all about my life. I used to talk his ear off.” She huffs a half laugh. “And he always listened, remembered all of my friends’ names, what I was learning that week in math.” She takes a long drink. “When I was fourteen I decided I wanted to try coffee. He told me I wouldn’t like it.”

Trini meets her eyes and Kim quirks her lips. “And you listened to him, because fourteen-year-old Trini couldn’t possibly be as stubborn as seventeen-year-old Trini.”

Trini rolls her eyes, “so he made me a cup, with a little extra cream and sugar. I took a sip and spit it out all over the counter.” Kim laughs and Trini smiles. “He laughed, of course, and I was so mad I chugged the whole thing, which just made him laugh harder. I’ve never seen him laugh that hard.” Her smile turns nostalgic. She picks at a napkin. “The next morning he asked if I wanted a cup of coffee, joking. I said yes, drank the whole thing again. I hated it.”

“You’ve had a cup of coffee every morning since?”

“I’ve had a cup of coffee every morning since.”

They sit in silence, sipping their drinks, and Kim watches Trini fidget with her cup, with the napkin. She watches her eyes glance around the room, distracted, and knows that she is not done. So Kim waits with a patience that she only has for Trini and Billy.

After a few minutes Trini grabs her hand again, her grip tight, and stares, unseeing, at the two remaining donuts. “I told him I had a girlfriend over coffee.” She mumbles it, the words tumbling out so quickly that Kim barely catches them, and Kim leans closer, her expression serious. Trini laces their fingers. Separates them. Laces them again. “He had to know, she was all I ever talked about for weeks leading up to it.” Her breathing picks up as her shoulders tense. “I remember shaking, staring at my coffee.” Trini pauses, then closes her mouth, her lips pressed tightly together. Her grip on Kim’s hand tightens and she tugs a little, squeezes.

Kim squeezes back. “Do you want…”

Trini nods, once, lets out a whispered “yes,” and Kim is sliding out of her chair and into the booth seat. She pulls their clasped hands onto her thigh and Trini presses into her side until they are touching from shoulders to toes.

Kim kisses her temple and Trini lets out a deep breath. Then another. “I could barely get the words out. Kind of like now.” Her lips twitch with an attempted smile. “But as soon as I did I felt so much better, you know?” Kim nods. She does. “The kitchen was so silent. I finally looked at him. He just got up and left.” Trini turns her head and looks at Kim. “We moved a month later.”

“I’m sorry.”

Trini’s eyes harden, “don’t pity me.”

Kim shakes her head. “Never. I promise.”

Trini searches her face, her eyes, and Kim feels like she is being examined under a microscope. Finally Trini’s eyes soften again, and she kisses Kim’s cheek before burying her nose in Kim’s neck. “I still get up early. But now I slip out the back door before he sees me and…”

“Do yoga on top of a mountain?”

“Yeah. Used to be by myself, but now every time I go up there there’s these four dorks waiting for me.”

“Sounds terribly annoying.”

“Hmm. Luckily one of them looks great in yoga pants. Speaking of, I still get to see you topless later, right?”

Trini nips at her pulse point and Kim shivers, “only if I get to see you topless, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr @penvision


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I broke this part up into two chapters, because it was getting long and I'm an asshole. The next part will be up tomorrow. Please note the rating change.

It has been five months and Trini still cannot believe that this is real. Not the superpowers, ancient evil aliens, giant robots parts; those things she could wrap her mind around. But her best friend; her _girlfriend_ , straddling her lap on an overpriced designer couch, one hand threading through her hair and scraping along her scalp, the other slipping under her shirt, up her abs, counting her ribs, her tongue doing that, that _thing_ against her own? It cannot last; nothing this good ever does, and she has never done, will never do enough to deserve these moments, this girl, these deep feelings that might be contentment and happiness and-

Kim’s hand tickles her side, fingers dancing over flushed skin, and an involuntary giggle escapes her chest. Trini breaks their sloppy kiss, pulling back enough to glare at her girlfriend in the low light from the forgotten television, and Kim just flashes her a smug little smile. She shifts her hand from Trini’s ribs to palm her breast over her bra as she bends down, drags her teeth and tongue and lips along the thrumming pulse point of her neck. Trini’s hips jerk up, her own hands slipping under Kim’s faded pink t-shirt and finding the warm, soft skin of her waist underneath, “fuck…” The hand in her hair guides her head back as lips settle just below her jaw and suck, _hard_. She bites her lip and groans, her hips rolling again. Trini has always tried to be quiet; a habit that started with the first girl she kissed, but at some point Kim had apparently made it her personal mission to pull as many sounds out of her as possible and takes deep pride in each and every one. She is getting very good at it.

Trini is dragged out of her hazy thoughts again as Kim’s hand slips under her bra and cups her, thumb circling her nipple, and her lips part as she moans, her hands going from Kim’s waist to her ass, pulling her closer, needing the anchor of her familiar weight. She can feel that stupid triumphant smirk against her jaw and she squeezes, caresses, until an answering whine vibrates against her skin. Kim pulls back, just enough to meet her eyes, and Trini takes in her dilated pupils, her rapid breathing, her bruised lips. They ask at the same time; “you okay?”

“Mhmm.” Kim brings her head down and Trini leans up, meeting her halfway in a messy, open-mouthed kiss. She sucks Kim’s lower lip between her teeth, runs her tongue along it in that way that makes Kim melt against her, and both of the hands on her body flex; pressing firmer into her scalp, over her breast. They breathe in each other’s moans as their hips roll against each other, into each other. Kim slips her hand from her hair and trails it between them, pausing to tease Trini’s other breast, her abs, her outer thigh. She squeezes before dragging it down her leg and hooking it under her knee, her own leg sliding off of the couch as she breaks the kiss to press their foreheads together. “Can I?”

Trini blinks away the fog that has settled in her mind and takes in her girlfriend’s suddenly soft expression. If she were less cynical she would call it adoration, but she fell hard and fast for Kimberly Hart, and she knows, she _knows_ , that Kim is not as serious about her. They never are. But Kim calms her constant restlessness and her skin sears everywhere that they touch and she selfishly _wants, needs_ , this girl, so she whispers, “yeah.”

Kim tugs gently and Trini lets her guide her body to lay her down on the couch. She settles between Trini’s legs, sweeps her hand along the floor, and snags a discarded throw pillow, guiding it behind her head as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. They are both still panting, chests pressed together. Kim kisses her once, twice; a chaste brush of her lips, before pulling back and tracing her face with her eyes, her fingers. Under her gaze, her body, Trini feels _safe_. “You are so beautiful, Trini.” Her chest, her heart, aches with those words, and she tries to swallow the lump in her throat, wonders how much more of this sweet torture she can take. She presses forward and licks Kim’s collarbone, breathes her in, feels a hand settle at the top of her jeans, over the button. “Do you want…?”

Trini freezes, the ‘yes,’ the ‘please,’ stuck in her throat. They have not done this yet, and she wants to, _God_ she wants to, but she is not selfish enough to keep taking everything that Kim offers her, to act on her intense feelings when she knows that they will never be returned. She licks her lips, “I-“

The front door opens with a damning squeal and the living room light flicks on, blinding them. Every muscle in Trini’s body tenses as her mind screams at her to run, and she expects Kim to jump off of her and shuffle to the other end of the couch, but Kim just slides her hand from the button of her jeans to her hip, grounding her.

“Kimberly!”

Kim shifts over her protectively, shielding as much of her from view as possible, and Trini wants to disappear into the cushions, to hide her face in Kim’s neck, but she cannot look away from the woman standing in the doorway. Because she recognizes the fierce look on her face; has seen it enough times from enough parents to know that this conversation will not go well. Her fingers tangle into pink fabric, willing Kim closer, willing her to be hers for just a little longer. She knew that this could not last, _it never does_ , but she is not ready, will never be ready to let Kimberly Hart go. Her heart constricts at the thought and her breath hitches. Kim looks from her mother to Trini and presses her body closer, her features softening as she places a tender kiss to her temple, brushes her thumb over her hip, “it’s okay.” Trini wants to say ‘it’s not,’ but Kim is already glaring back at her mother. “Mom. You’re home early.”

“Indeed.” Kim’s mother tosses her purse onto the entryway table with a huff, her eyes settling on Trini. Her fingers tighten around the soft t-shirt and she can feel the cloth tearing. “Who is this?”

“My girlfriend, Trini. I told you about her.”

Kim’s mother rakes her gaze over their disheveled hair, their kiss swollen lips, and raises her eyebrows. “Yes, well, with everything else going on in your life lately I just assumed you were being facetious.”

Kim bristles above her, “well I wasn’t-“

“What has gotten into you lately, Kimberly?” Kim’s mother raises her voice as she slams her keys down next to her purse. Trini flinches at the noise and her breathing picks up; she cannot get enough air into her lungs. “You hit your boyfriend, quit cheerleading, chopped off your hair!” A deafening boom escapes the speakers and Trini’s frame jerks, her nerves burning with a fresh wave of adrenaline. Kim slips the tips of her fingers under her shirt, skin against skin, and presses, anchoring her, but does not take her eyes off of her mother. It only sort of works; Trini’s instincts are still begging her to run. Kim’s mother stalks over to the television and flips it off. Silence fills the room, and she tastes coffee on her tongue as an image of her father flashes through her mind. “You’re never home, these new kids your hanging out with are…”

Trini feels Kim stiffen everywhere that they touch, sees the muscle of her jaw twitch. “Are what, mom?!”

‘Please don’t yell, please don’t yell, please don’t yell.’ Trini can no longer feel the soft fabric bunched in her hands. Her fingers and toes tingle as they go numb. “Delinquents!”

“Delinquents?!” Kim’s voice rises again to match her mother’s, and her familiar weight on Trini is no longer comforting; the electrifying flush she felt where their bodies touch only moments ago has turned into a searing burn. “Really? Is that the fanciest word you could think of?”

Kim’s mother begins to pace. Trini tracks her, her heart beating faster in her chest, louder in her ears every time the woman steps in front of the door. “Would you prefer criminals?!” She is trapped; beneath Kim’s body, behind the door. “I know what they’re in detention for!”

Kim’s hand flexes against her hip. If she were anyone else it would leave a bruise. “They’ve made mistakes!” The room is sweltering; sweat prickles the back of her neck. “I’ve made mistakes!” She needs fresh air. She needs to leave, now; before the conversation comes back around to her. “They’re good people, if you just got to know them!”

She needs to run. “If those kids weren’t minors they would be in jail! Your old friends would never-” She needs to run. Now.

“They’re the best friends I’ve ever had!”

The woman’s eyes shift to Trini again and she freezes. “And your ‘girlfriend’ is one of them, right?” She swallows down a wave of nausea, suddenly dizzy. This is it. “Is this the next part of your rebellious phase? Finding some poor lesbian girl to experiment with?”

Kim says something, but Trini does not hear it. She shoves her girlfriend, _ex-girlfriend_ , off of her, half wrenches the door from its frame, and is running, the pavement firm under her feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr @penvision


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is a day late, i had a sick puppy dog that needed close monitoring and lots of cuddles (she is feeling much better). this chapter is mostly zack/trini bonding. i'm not sure where i'm going with this story, let me know if you still like it.

The next thing Trini registers is her fist knocking on Zack’s door.

“Coming!” His loud voice echoing from somewhere inside of the trailer steadies her, and Trini shivers in the chilly night air as her breathing starts to slow. She can feel cold sweat sucking her t-shirt to her skin, a fierce ache in her calves, the last wisps of panic tickling the back of her neck, and her knocking turns into pounding. “Hold on! Shit!” The door yanks open and Zack blinks once, twice. “Crazy girl?” He glances down at her feet and she follows his gaze. She forgot her shoes. His voice softens with concern, “Trini?” She shivers again, goosebumps forming as the sweat cools on her skin. And her jacket. “What happened?”

Trini crosses her arms over her chest and rubs her hands along her biceps, the tips of her fingers still numb, “I don’t want to talk about it.” Zack clicks his tongue, brow furrowed, and taps a rhythm against the doorframe with his fingers, waiting to see if she will say more. She wiggles her toes experimentally; her feet are rubbed raw. “Not yet.” 

He wants to push the matter, she knows, but he merely sighs and moves to the side. “I was just starting dinner. Want some?”

Trini’s stomach roils at the thought of food; she is still a little nauseous, but she does not want to be alone, either, so she shrugs. Her phone dings in her back pocket. “Sure.” She steps across the threshold, pointedly ignoring her phone and Zack’s raised eyebrow, and he closes the door behind her. He hesitates, hovering just outside of her personal space, and opens his arms at his sides; offering a hug if she wants it. And she does. Just, “not yet.” All of her senses are too raw; her nerves are still burning with the last of the adrenaline in her bloodstream and her heart is still thumping furiously against her ribcage. She pulls her arms tighter around her chest, trying to anchor herself with her own touch. It does not work, not like when Kim-

Her phone dings again, breaking the suspended silence, and Zack turns, grabbing one of his black hoodies from the coatrack and handing it to her instead. She flashes him a grateful smile and shrugs into the worn fabric of the surrogate hug. “Thanks.” 

“Any time.” Zack smiles, then grins and laughs, loud and full, as Trini fights to free her hands from the sleeves. She levels him with her most annoyed glare as she pushes the sleeves up and he laughs louder. A third ding. “You gonna get that?” 

“Nope.” Trini pulls her phone out of her back pocket and glances at the screen; three missed calls and six new text messages. Ding. Seven. She silences it and slips it back into her pocket without reading the latest one. 

Another click of his tongue. She hates it when he does that. He knows. “That your girl?” 

‘My girl.’ Trini’s stomach churns again as all of the emotions that she ran from return to the forefront of her thoughts. Her heart physically aches and she covers it with her palm, “still not ready.”

She meets his eyes and Zack nods, willing to give her time, “okay.” She watches him turn and head toward the kitchen, and wonders when he learned to read her, to know her, so well. He glances at her over his shoulder as he steps through the doorway, “dinner in twenty. You know where everything is.” 

Alone next to the door, Trini closes her eyes against the moisture gathering in the corners and lets out a deep sigh. Then another. 

“Is that Trini’s voice I hear?” 

Some of the tension drains from her shoulders at the sound of Zack’s mother’s familiar voice and she feels herself smile. “Yes, Mrs. Taylor.” 

“Well, come here, then.” Trini smiles wider, already a little calmer, and steps through the small doorway into the living room. Zack’s mother looks from the television over to her and pats the chessboard on the end table between her chair and the couch in invitation. If she sees the tears in her eyes she does not say anything, and Trini is grateful. “So nice of you to come all this way just to visit me.” 

Trini settles into the worn arm of the couch, her fingers wrestling with the sleeves of Zack’s hoodie again as they try to swallow her hands. “Of course, ma’am; your amazing company is worth it.” 

Mrs. Taylor tsks and laughs softly, “very smooth. You might be worse than Zack.” She watches Trini’s struggle with the same amused expression that her son wore minutes ago before focusing on the board and moving a white pawn. “Maybe you’ll grow into it.” 

Trini throws her a mock glare as she frees her fingers and receives the Taylor sly smile in return. The flicker of the television catches her eye and she glances at the black and white movie playing quietly on the small screen, “what are we watching?” Mrs. Taylor taps the board and Trini rolls her eyes at her impatience, moves one of her own pawns. 

The older woman slides another pawn forward, her thin fingers weakly grasping the piece. “No idea, but Audrey Hepburn’s in it. Isn’t she gorgeous?”

Trini only means to skim the screen again, but she finds herself captivated by Audrey Hepburn elegantly dancing across the ballroom. Her staring is interrupted by another tap on the worn wood. She blushes, caught, and can imagine Kim teasing her; ‘you are useless around a pretty girl, T.’ “Yeah, she is.” She moves another pawn without much consideration, unable to focus. Mrs. Taylor fumbles with her blanket and Trini reaches across the board to lift it higher, “how are you feeling today?” 

“Oh, older than I should.” She plays a knight, “so, how did that algebra test go?”

… 

“Checkmate.” Trini watches the older woman tip over her king with a bishop and huffs, frustrated. Mrs. Taylor chuckles, coughs into her hand. “You’re getting better.” 

She starts to reset the board, pouting, “I still lost.” 

“Yeah, but it’s taking you longer.” Trini teasingly narrows her eyes at her and Zack's mother lets out another laugh. 

Zack walks in, arms full, and scoots a tv tray in front of his mother with his foot, “I can never beat her, either.” He sets a plate of pasta, a glass of milk, and a capful of pills on the tray, squeezes his mother’s shoulder, and turns back for the kitchen. 

Mrs. Taylor leans slightly over the chessboard. Trini leans in, too, and she stage whispers, “he’s not very good.” Trini snorts. 

Zack calls from the doorway, “I heard that! You’re the one who taught me, mom.” Mrs. Taylor waves her hand in dismissal and Zack rolls his eyes before turning to Trini, “and you can come get your own plate since you laughed, T.”

Zack’s mother swallows a few of the pills and sips her milk as Trini starts for the kitchen, “that’s no way to treat our guest, Zachary.”

Zack snorts, “Trini quit being a guest months ago, we should be making her chip in for utilities.” He bumps her shoulder with his arm as she comes to stand next to him by the counter and Trini has to bite down on her lip to keep the grin off of her face; the weight on her chest suddenly a little lighter. His expression turns serious as he starts dishing out the pasta, and she knows that they are done stalling. "So. Bad night?”

Trini opens the pantry and takes longer than necessary to grab two water bottles as she tries to sort her thoughts, to get any words out. She settles on, “Kim’s mom came home early.”

She sees Zack’s hand pause out of the corner of her eye and wonders how many conversations she can get away with running from tonight. He starts moving again. “How bad?”

She shrugs and rolls one of the bottles between her hands. “We were still dressed. Kim’s mom started yelling.”

Zack nods in understanding, because they all got a little loud around the campfire those first few weeks, and Trini never said anything, but they noticed her tense, noticed her leave soon after, every time. So they do not shout around her, especially if they are arguing. “So you came here.”

Trini feels a sudden surge of affection for her friends, because she has never had any that cared enough about her to make an effort to learn her, to know her, before. The feeling abruptly fades, replaced by self-loathing, because “I can jump ravines and fight aliens, but I can’t handle raised voices.” She sets the bottle on the counter and crosses her arms, shrinking into herself. “Pathetic.” She opens her mouth, ready to tell him everything, but she stops the words at the last second. “You don’t want to hear about this.”

“Trini.” Zack leans back against the refrigerator and crosses his own arms, mirroring her, watches her until she looks at him. “You help me with my mom, yeah? Like, neither of us asked, you just started doing it.”

Trini furrows her brow, “yeah?”

He lifts his chin toward the living room. “She a burden to you?”

She shakes her head, once, confused. “No…”

“Right. You wouldn’t do it if she was.”

She breaks their eye contact, shrugging again. “I like helping her. You’re mom’s awesome.”

“What about me?”

Trini smirks, “you wanna know if I think you’re awesome?”

Zack clicks his tongue, gathering his thoughts. “When I rant to you; when she has a bad day or Jason pushes too hard or school’s too…” He sighs. “You don’t judge me for it, don’t see me as an inconvenience or... weak, or whatever. Right?”

“Course not…” She thinks that she can see where this is going, and she does not like it; does not like feeling exposed as Zack picks at her insecurities.

He drops his arms and stands up straight. “Then why do you think you are to us?”

Her instincts tell her to run again, and she tenses. “I…”

Zack senses it and steps back, giving her a little more space. “I think you’re incredible, Crazy Girl, but you keep all of this shit bottled up and you take it out on me during sparring and you hit like a freight train so, please, rant to me. Or Billy or Jason or, you know, your girlfriend.” Trini flinches at the word. He notices. “Nothing you say is going to make us think less of you, or pity you.”

She opens her mouth. Closes it. Her mind is racing and she wants to talk, or at least try, but her thoughts scatter as soon as they form. She has no idea where or how to start. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“When you started helping… it was hard for me. To trust someone else with my mom. Ever since the insurance ran out for the home nurse it’s just been me. But…” He laughs. “Neither of us are good at this, huh?”

Trini’s lips quirk. “Nope.”

“I think I’m trying say that letting people in, it hurts, at first. But it’s worth it.” She forces her muscles to relax and Zack takes a step closer. “So… I’m here.”

Trini closes her eyes and sighs, swallows around the lump in her throat. “Can I have that hug now?”

“Yeah.” She feels him wrap his arms around her and rests her forehead against his chest.

Her arms circle his waist and she takes a deep breath. “I just like her so fucking much. It scares the shit out of me.”

She turns her head and listens to the steady thrum of his heart. He presses her closer. “I know.”

She starts to shake, “and she doesn’t feel the same and it hurts-“

“Wait,” Zack tries to pull back a little to look at her, but Trini’s fingers weave into his shirt. “What are you talking about?”

“She doesn’t-“ She swallows, “I’m so in lo-“ Starts again, “her mom said that she was experimenting with me and I knew that’s what this was all along but hearing it out loud-“

“Woah, stop. Trini, look at me.” A few seconds pass and Zack places his hands on her shoulders. “C’mon.” She takes a steadying breath and leans her head back. “Kim is crazy about you.”

“No-“

“Yes, she is. She tells me all of the time.” He scrunches his nose, “it’s really sappy.” He squeezes her shoulders, serious again. “She is not using you, I promise, but you have to trust her and let her in, or you’ll lose her.”

Trini nods, then lets her head fall back to his chest. “Ugh. I fucked up. I left her with her mother.”

Zack pats the top of her head. “I’m positive she’ll forgive you. But you’ve gotta-“

“Talk to her. Yeah, I got it.” She gives him another quick hug before pulling back and flashing a genuine smile. “Thanks.”

Mrs. Taylor calls from the living room, “did you two get lost? It’s not that big of a trailer.”

“We’re coming!” Zack grabs his plate and water bottle, nudging her shoulder as he passes, “ready?”

Trini pulls out her phone and waves it, “I’ll be right there.” She texts Kim: “at zacks.” Then: “sorry i ran, call me when you’re ready,” before grabbing her own plate and following Zack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr @penvision


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this thing did not want to get written, hopefully it's not horrible. not sure where to go after this, let me know if you guys want more/have any ideas you'd like to see

Kimberly hesitates, body shoved into the cushions, for three seconds; her reaction to an overwhelmed Trini is to give the girl space and stay mostly still, but it is three seconds too long because when she stands her girlfriend is gone and her mother is blocking the door. Kim's glare hardens to ice as she crosses the room and grabs Trini's jacket from the coat rack. "Move."

 

"We're not done," Kim's mother throws a quick glance over her shoulder as she puts her hands on her hips, taking up more of the doorframe, "she's a bit sensitive."

 

“A bit sen-!” Kim bites her cheek, her tongue, to keep herself from saying the first thing that comes to mind. And the second. Because throwing insults and curses and _anger_ are what pre-Power Ranger Kim would have done, and she hates that version of herself. Instead she slips into her own coat, curls her fingers around the car keys in her pocket, to keep her hands busy. Because punching a hole through the side of the house is also probably a bad idea. “Yeah, she is, it's one of my favorite things about her.” She releases the keys before she accidently crushes them in her simmering rage and stands in front of her mother, meets her eyes. “I can't think of a meaner thing you could've said to my girlfriend, who you were meeting for the first time."

 

Kim's mother scoffs, dismissive, "is that not what this is; a little exploring? You and I both know your 'relationships' never last long."

 

Kim does not have the patience for her mother right now; she _needs_ to find Trini, but yelling is not going to get the other woman to move, so she tries to explain, again; "Me being bi is not ‘exploring.’” There was a reason Amanda had sent her that picture; ‘friendly’ flirting gone too far. She had taken it further. “This is different."

 

"Should I guess why?” Tilted head, “you think you're in love?” Raised eyebrows, “hmm?”

 

Kim feels her jaw clench, her nails dig into her palm, Trini’s jacket. “I know I am.” She cannot help but find it ironic that neither of them are shouting anymore, now that Trini is gone. Guilt twists her stomach; all she had wanted to do was protect her girlfriend; instead she had helped trigger a panic attack, and now she is on the wrong side of the door; Trini further from her reach with each wasted breath to her mother. She forces her muscles to relax, keeps her voice steady. "It’s _different_ because _I’m_ different.” She eyes the group picture of the cheerleading squad, the gymnastics trophy, the senior portrait on the mantel. “You think I've been making terrible choices because I'm no longer friends with who you want me to be with or doing the activities that you think will look best on my college applications, but I'm figuring out who _I_ am. And I am so much less angry.” Her voice cracks, “I’m actually happy."

 

Kim’s mother shakes her head, hands falling from her hips, “I only ever wanted you to be happy, Kimberly.”

 

She looks at her mother again, sees her own jaw, her own nose, reflected back at her, and wills her to understand; "I am. I’m doing okay, I promise. And I love my friends, they’re good for me. Just… give them a chance.”

 

“I don’t know how to deal with this new you. The first person you’re serious about is a girl, Kimberly?”

 

Kim flinches at the rejection and turns toward their barely used designer kitchen, ready to storm out the back door with all of the stereotypical teenage fury that her mother expects, when one of the family portraits catches her eye. She does not want to resent her mother. “Maamajee, you married Papa when you were twenty, because you _loved_ him, and your parents haven’t talked to you since.” She takes her mother’s hands in her free one, focuses on the cool metal of her rings. “I don’t want that to be us, so please try to accept _her,_ accept _me_."

 

Kim's mother hesitates at that. She cups her daughter’s long fingers between her hands, thinking, before letting out a sigh. "The girl you were before was me. Angry and bitter. Sometimes I think you've inherited all of my faults."

 

"Momma..."

 

"I don’t know this new you, but I’d like to. I need to think about what you've said." She steps aside, pulling her hands free, and bends down to pick up Trini’s shoes, “it’s a school night.”

 

Kim takes the shoes and kisses her cheek. “Thank you.”

 

…

 

Trini’s phone goes to voicemail, again, and Kim hangs up with a frustrated huff. She sends a text at each stop sign; ‘ _i’m sorry,’ ‘where are you,’ ‘just let me know you’re safe_ ,’ as she aimlessly drives around Angel Grove’s semi-reconstructed downtown. On her second pass of Dunkin’ Donuts she pulls into the drive-thru and orders a coffee; two creams, two sugars, and a half dozen donuts, because they had not eaten dinner yet and Trini always forgets to eat when she is upset.

 

She parks by the boardwalk and sits on one of the worn wooden benches, picks at the layers of flaking paint as she watches the fishing boats bob and sway on the Pacific; black shapes outlined against the setting sun. Inhales the damp, salty air. Listens to the waves break upon the seawall, the gulls circling overhead. Feels the little droplets of sea spray freckle her skin whenever the cool winter breeze shifts. And worries. Because if Trini wants to be alone none of them can find her. Because Trini always sought her out when she was upset, before, but this time it is her fault- Because she _yelled_ \- Because she is better, but not _good_ -

 

Her phone buzzes in her coat pocket and her heart leaps into her throat. She almost breaks it, for the fourth time, in her rush to read the message.

 

Zack: _your girl’s here_

 

She collapses forward; arms on her knees, with relief.

 

Kim: _should I come over_

 

Zack: _bring a shirt_

 

She is five minutes away when her phone buzzes again against the passenger seat, this time with Trini’s texts, and her chest loosens a little more. She wants to talk. They _have_ to talk.

 

…

 

Kim shrugs her backpack higher onto her shoulder, slings Trini’s jacket over the arm carrying the coffee, and pulls open Zack’s rattly screen door with her foot. She awkwardly raises her hand carrying the shoes and donuts to knock when she hears Trini’s voice, “Jesus Christ, Zack, how did you fuck up pasta?”

 

Zack’s voice filters through the door next, “I’m a man of many talents.”

 

She rolls her eyes, can picture Trini and Mrs. Taylor doing the same, and manages to rap her knuckles against the aluminum without dropping anything.

 

“Trini, get the door!”

 

“I don’t even live here!”

 

There is shuffling inside. The lightbulb above her flickers; casting stuttering shadows across the yard, its electrical humming stuttering in cadence with the pulsing yellow light. Kim shifts her weight, unexpectedly nervous, but before she can get lost in her doubts the door is opening and Trini is standing there, swimming in Zack’s hoodie, her expression open and vulnerable, and Kim instinctively leans forward, drawn to her. Her mouth goes dry, and she has to swallow twice before she can trust herself to speak. “Hey.”

 

“Hey.” Trini pushes the sleeve of one arm up. It falls as soon as she takes her hand away. “You brought me coffee?”

 

“And donuts,” Kim nods, heart fluttering in her chest, “is that okay?”

 

They stare at each other, eyes unguarded, surrounded by dull light and the quiet rhythm of distant traffic. Inside, Zack’s mother asks him to help her to bed and the noise from the television cuts out. A dog barks, a screen door screeches open, slams closed, but the silence between them stretches on. She can feel that they are on a precipice, hovering between the following _years_ together and breaking up now, and Kim knows that she has to say something, because she wants those years, that future, wants Trini, but she has no idea what that something is. So, for the first time in her recent memory, she finds herself rambling; “because you forget to eat when you have a bad night and your sweet tooth is insatiable and coffee’s, like, your comfort drink- and I have a shirt for you, it’s one of mine but it’s clean, and I am so sorry for… fuck, for everything and I have never used you, Trini, I swear-“

 

She blinks and Trini is hugging her; falling into her with an ease and familiarity built from a hundred past embraces, arms slipping around Kim’s back, under her coat, nose burying in her neck. Kim freezes uselessly, her arms still full. She feels Trini breathe her in. “I’m not an experiment to you.”

 

Kim drops the shoes, the donuts, and brings her hand up to thread her fingers through Trini’s hair; she _loves_ her hair. Trini sighs into her neck at the contact and she kisses her temple, whispers against her skin, “God, no.” The _I love you_ sticks in her throat, because they are not ready yet; they need to talk, so she says, “I am absolutely crazy about you,” instead.

 

“Me too. It’s fucking terrifying.” Lips brush her collarbone, then press more firmly, soft and familiar, and she closes her eyes, nodding in agreement, gently scratches Trini’s scalp as the girl inhales deeply. “You were by the ocean.”

 

Her hand disentangles from Trini’s hair to wrap around her waist, hugging her closer. She loves how they fit together; all complimentary curves with just enough height difference to tuck into each other. “Yeah.”

 

“Year and half and I’m still not used to that big thing.” One of the hands on her back slips below her shirt and traces her spine, calloused fingertips leaving a trail of heat behind as they lazily explore. Kim has gotten used to Trini’s tactile moods; her almost constant need to be touching when they are alone, has learned to love them. The thought of almost losing them turns her stomach. “It smells better on you.”

 

Sometimes she forgets that Trini has never lived by the ocean before, forgets that there is so much that they do not know about each other. “I am so sorry, Trini.”

 

Trini loosens her grip and pulls back to look up at her, brows furrowed in confusion. “For what? I ran.”

 

The words tumble out, each one a weight on her chest; “for yelling. For my mother. For giving you any reason to doubt how I feel-”

 

Trini’s hands cup her cheeks, guiding her down, as she leans up and kisses her. “That one’s not your fault. And it’s not like you were yelling at me.” A neighbor steps out of his trailer and lights a cigarette, watching them, and Kim shifts subtly so that she is blocking his gaze. Trini notices, flashes her a small smile, and steps back to pick up the shoes and donuts. “Why don’t we finish this inside?”

 

…

 

Kim stares at the purposeful gap that Trini has left between them on the couch. It is only about a foot, she guesses, and controlling her personal space is important to Trini, she knows, but it feels like a mile. It feels like rejection; amplified by the contrast of the intimate hug they had just shared. But Trini is wearing Kim’s faded ‘Angel Grove Tigers’ t-shirt and pink sweatpants, rolled up at the waist, and that feels like something, too.

 

Trini finishes her lukewarm coffee and tosses the empty cardboard onto the coffee table where it lands perfectly. “Zack seems to think that I should talk to you.” She huffs. “About stuff. Or I’ll lose you.” She stares at the blank television and settles her hand between them, palm up, fingers spread open. Kim immediately takes the offered hand in her own, threading their fingers together and squeezing a little too hard. Trini returns her grip just as fiercely as she licks her lips, voice quiet, “I don’t want to lose you.” She turns her head, finds Kim’s eyes with her own, “but I don’t know how to do this. And I am so scared that I’ll fuck it up.”

 

“Me too. I fucked it up tonight.” Trini opens her mouth to interrupt, but Kim rushes out, “I’m sorry I yelled.”

 

Her girlfriend shrugs, dismissive, and starts to turn away, “it’s not like you were yelling at me.”

 

Kim brings up her other hand to faintly trace her jaw, fingers asking her to stay, and Trini leans into the touch. “No. I know it upsets you-“

 

Another shrug, but she does not pull back. “Yeah, well. I should be able to handle an argument. Instead I ran away, like a little kid.”

 

Kim shakes her head. “You don’t have to apologize for having a fucked-up childhood.” Trini bites her lip and brings their intertwined hands to rest on her thigh. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“Yes, but…”

 

“Later?” Trini nods and Kim moves her hand from her jaw to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be here.” Trini nods again. Kim takes a deep breath to steady herself. “You left after my mom said I was experimenting... and brought it up outside.”

 

Trini tenses, the grip on her hand bordering on painful. “I don’t want to talk about that, either.” She lets out a half-laugh, half-sigh, as she drops her head onto the back of the couch.

 

“…Okay.”

 

“No, I can share this, I _want_ to share this, with you.” A door opens and they both turn to see Zack closing his mother’s door behind him. He gives a little wave, mouths ‘talk to her’ to Trini, as he crosses to his own room and shuts the door. Trini rolls her eyes, but the silent pep-talk seems to help. “Okay. My last school was bigger than this one. Somehow word got out that I liked girls.” Her free hand picks lint off of the couch cushion. “There were girls that wanted to know what it was like. So they’d kiss me. Behind bleachers, in empty classrooms.” Trini pauses, then glances down at the gap between them, “can I?”

 

“Always.” Kim squeezes her hand before pulling her own free and lifting her arm. Trini closes the space between them, curling into her side, feet tucked underneath her, as Kim slides her arm around her shoulder and hugs her closer, draws circles over the t-shirt with her fingertips.

 

“The third girl, her name was Sarah.” Another pause. Kim tugs a frayed green afghan off of the back of the couch and drapes it over them, curls her hand under Trini’s knee, down her calf, guides her legs onto her lap. Trini stumbles through another sentence, “she’d hold my hand in the halls, kiss me by my locker.” Their hands find each other’s under the blanket. “One day we get called to the principal’s office. Our parents are there. My mom asks me who she is, and I say, ‘my girlfriend.’” Her voice cracks, and Kim is overcome with the sudden urge to track down Sarah and knock another tooth out. She is confident that their boys would want to help. Trini hides her face in the crook of her neck and Kim threads her fingers through her hair, rubs her scalp the way she knows she likes. “Sarah says that she was having fun. She likes boys. She was curious.”

 

“Move number two?”

 

“Move number two.”

 

There is nothing that she can say, that she can do, to take Trini’s pain away. So she shifts closer, kisses the parts of her that she can reach, and hopes that it somehow helps. “You were never an experiment. I want to be with you, for as long as you’ll have me.”

 

Trini mumbles into her neck, “I want to be with you, too.”

 

“Trini.” Her girlfriend hums into her neck and Kim kisses her hair, trails her hand from her locks to her shoulder and gives an encouraging little tug. After a minute, Trini lifts her head and meets her steady gaze. “I love you.”  

 

Trini tastes like coffee. She tasted like coffee the first time they kissed, too; in Kim’s car after a Starbucks run. In fact she almost always tastes like coffee, and- Trini runs her tongue along her bottom lip in that way that she _loves_ and Kim whimpers, opens her mouth to her. Lays her down on the couch and settles between her legs and lets her fingers get lost in her hair. Trini’s hands are exploring her back again, under her shirt; skin against skin. _Tactile_. Kim presses closer and Trini slows their kiss, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth before finally pulling back. “Can you say it again?”  

 

Kim rests their foreheads together, grinning. “I love you.”

 

“You love me?”  

 

“So much.” Trini is grinning, too, laughter in her eyes. Kim presses a kiss to her nose. “You don’t have to say-“  

 

“I love you, too.” They meet in another fervent kiss; lips and tongues and shared breath. She knows she told Trini that she did not like coffee, and it is still true, but the taste is really, _really_ growing on her. Trini breaks the kiss again, and she groans at the loss of her lips, “we should probably stop making out on Zack’s couch.”

 

“Ugh. Fine.”

 

Kim starts to get up, but Trini holds her close, “fall asleep with me?”

 

…

 

Zack finds them curled up under the afghan and wakes them around four so that they can sneak home and get ready for school.


	5. Chapter 5

Trini is slowly woken up by lips pressing featherlight kisses to her hair, hands rubbing soothing circles along her shoulder, her hip. She nestles into the warmth in her side, below her, tightens her leg thrown over hips, her hand splayed against ribs, and burrows her nose into soft skin, inhales sea salt and the remnants of familiar perfume; _Kim_. The hands on her body cuddle her closer, the lips press firmer. She has never woken up feeling so relaxed, so content. They both sigh. “Good morning.”

Trini kisses Kim’s collarbone, the thrumming pulse at her neck, the underside of her jaw. Tilts her head up and smiles into the meeting of their lips once, twice. Wishes that she could wake up like this every day. “Morning.”

Kim pulls the green afghan back up from where it had bunched around their waists during the night and tucks it under Trini’s chin, brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her hand finds her shoulder again, anchoring Trini to her without making her feel trapped, as her lips brush her temple, “I love you.”

Trini’s heart swells as she completely relaxes into her girlfriend; warm and safe and a little overwhelmed with happiness. She is pretty sure that she has not stopped smiling since last night; tucked into Kim’s arms on Zack’s worn couch as they whispered about nothing and traded chaste, and not so chaste, kisses until they fell asleep. The insecure part of her, a part that has become smaller and smaller since finding that yellow coin, had been sure that Kim would leave before the morning. But Kim is here and Kim is clinging to Trini just as much as Trini is clinging to her and Kim _loves_ her. She tilts her head up again and Kim finds her lips in the dark. “I love you, too.” They hug closer and she settles into Kim’s shoulder. Lets herself drift back into sleep. Feels Kim’s circling fingers, steady breaths slow as she does the same.

…

Something shakes her shoulder, jolting her awake again. “Oh no you don’t. It took me five minutes to wake you guys up the first time.” Trini tries to shrug Zack’s hand off and groans, buries her face in Kim’s shirt when he flicks on the lamp. “You two have school.”

Kim’s hand slides from her hip to her thigh under the afghan, runs up and down her leg. “We’re up.”

Trini feels Kim’s other hand thread into her hair, massage her scalp, and she hums happily, burrows her nose into Kim’s neck. “No we’re not.”

“What time is it?” Kim kisses her temple; Trini can feel her amused smile against her skin, and gives her thigh a squeeze before starting to slide out from under her. Trini groans in protest, skims her hand from ribs to waist, rubs the pads of her fingers against smooth skin. Kim sucks in a breath, cheeks flushing. "That's cheating." She trails her fingers from her shoulder down to her hand, her own fingers, and threads them together, brings them up to her lips, whispers “we have to get up,” into her knuckles. She calls back to Zack, “you’re not going to school?”

Trini hears Zack shuffle into the kitchen, floorboards creaking under his padded steps. Cabinet doors open and close. He raises his voice so that it carries over the shaking of pill bottles, “a little after four.” The stove clicks on. “Frank’s got some work for me at the Seaside Complex; two apartments need a fresh coat of paint and a dryer’s busted.” The faucet runs. Shuts off. Runs again. Silence. Then Zack’s resigned voice; “we need the money.”

Trini finally manages to sit up fully, pressed into Kim’s side, and runs the fingers of her free hand through her hair in frustration. She knows that he is right; the Taylors moved twice in three years, too, from a house that still has Zack’s birthday height marks etched into a bedroom doorframe to a ground floor two bedroom apartment with handicap access to a trailer that his mother has not left in months. That he skips meals. That he hates when she stocks the pantry but loves his mother more than his pride so he always tells her ‘thank you.’ She also knows that Mrs. Taylor would give up anything to see him graduate, that he started his senior year with all AP classes and the promise of scholarships. That he and Billy could probably design an death ray or blow up half of the mountain together if Jason did not hover over them like a mother hen.

And they may be superheroes and they may have saved the earth but she cannot fix any of this; so when he reappears from the kitchen with a glass of water and a capful of pills worth more than Kim’s oversized television she just asks, “see you at practice?”

Zack hesitates, looking down at them from behind the couch, and nods. “Yeah.”

Kim kisses the back of her hand one more time before standing and starting to fold the afghan. “Thanks. For letting us stay here.”

Zack shrugs, clicks his tongue. “Yeah well, you guys are… you know.”

“Family.”

“Yep. That.” He heads for his mother’s room, voice laced with affection, “really weird, color coded, super powered family.”

The door shuts and Trini puts her weight on her feet to stand. Stinging pain shoots up from her toes to her calves and she jerks them off of the carpet with a hiss.

Kim is at her side immediately, afghan and donut box and coffee cup forgotten. “What’s wrong?”

Trini closes her eyes and focuses on the hand rubbing soothing circles on her back, tries to ignore the throbbing of her soles in time to her racing heart. “Feet are just a little sore.”

She feels Kim shift from the couch to the floor and opens her eyes, watches her push the coffee table away to give herself more space. Kim delicately wraps a hand around one of her ankles and looks up, waiting for permission. Trini lets out a long breath through pursed lips, nods. Kim shifts her foot into her lap, kisses her knee, before carefully pulling the sock down, centimeter by centimeter. Every time it sticks or snags on a patch of particularly raw skin Trini clutches the couch cushions until her knuckles turn white and bites her lip. By the time the sock is off she tastes copper.

Kim tilts her foot up with a guiding hand on her ankle and inspects the sole. “Fuck, Trini.” Her voice catches on her name. She lets her forehead fall to Trini’s knee. “I’m sorry.”

Trini immediately shakes her head. “It’s not your fault.” The hand on her ankle flexes. “It’s not.” She runs her fingers through Kim’s hair, along her scalp, mimicking the soothing movements that she likes best from her girlfriend. “Please don’t feel guilty about last night. I don’t blame you. For any of it.” Kim nods into her knee, once, and she smiles, “besides, I’m pretty happy with how it turned out.”

Kim rests her chin on Trini’s knee with a sigh and returns her smile with a smaller one of her own. “I really liked waking up next to you.”

Trini’s smile turns into a grin. “Me too.” She wiggles her toes experimentally, feels them burn as the skin stretches. “I’ve gotten worse from training.” Kim furrows her brow, unconvinced, and Trini tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “They’ll be fine by tonight. Super healing, remember?” Super tough skin or super pain tolerance would have been nice, too, but she will take what she can get.

Kim's jaw flexes and Trini knows that she is feeling frustrated, guilty, protective. Knows what she is going to say. “Let me drive you to school?”

Trini’s first instinct is to say no, to refuse help; she shakes her head, “I can walk.”

Kim presses another kiss to her knee. “I know you can. But you don’t have to.” She lets the sock drop, forgotten, and shuffles up onto the couch. “Will you let me help you?” They sit pressed together; Trini loves feeling the weight and warmth of Kim against her, is starting to believe that Kim might like it just as much. Their hands, their eyes, find each other’s. “Not because you need it. I know you don’t need it. But because I love you.”

The fingers of Kim’s other hand come up to trace the fresh bite marks on her lower lip. Trini kisses them, then leans in and kisses Kim’s cheek. If Zack can let her buy groceries and Kim can give up her comfortable bed for a night on the couch then Trini can let her girlfriend give her a ride to school. “Okay. I love you, too.”

…

Trini pauses at the bottom of the stairs, backpack slung over her shoulder, and glances at the light streaming out of the kitchen. She can hear the coffee pot percolating, the sharp tap of a mug meeting granite counter, and looks at her watch, bites her sore lip; she has a few minutes until Kim picks her up a block and two turns away. Her father passes by the doorway and she sighs, her anxiety spiking, walks tenderly on stinging feet into the room.

“Morning, Papa. Make enough for two?”

Her father looks up from Angel Grove’s thin daily paper, surprised, “Trini.” They stare at each other under the harsh white glow of the florescent lights, the coffee pot dripping beside them; her waiting for him to speak, him trying to decide what to say. The distance between them seems to stretch with each silent second. Then he smiles; nothing more than a little tug of his lips, but it reaches his eyes, and Trini feels some of her anxiety dissipate. “Yes. How’s school?”

They both move; breaking the stillness. Trini sets her backpack down next to one of the stools and sits. “Good. You can tell mama I’ve made friends.”

Her father grabs her favorite mug from the cabinet; white with a crude painting of her and the twins that they made for her in kindergarten. “You should tell her yourself.”

She starts to scoff. Hesitates. Worries her lip. Thinks of Zack’s mother; how he would give anything, _anything_ , for more time with her. While Trini’s own mother is healthy and here and maybe, _maybe_ , the void that has formed between them is not irreparable. She nods once to herself as he pours sugar and creamer into their mugs. “I will.”

“Soccer championships this weekend.” He slides her the mug. “Want to watch? Sunday after mass?”

“Sure.” She warms her hands on the porcelain, holds in a breath as she waits for him to press the issue of church. She has stepped into Angel Grove’s Catholic church three times since they moved here; two Christmases and an Easter, and is reminded of this fact, loudly, every Saturday night at dinner. But he just returns to his paper and they talk teams and players and stats in between sips of steaming coffee. The conversation is completely civil, if superficial, and it feels almost normal; like a shadow of their previous mornings.

Trini watches her father's hands as he complains about a trade and tries to remember the last time that she sat and drank coffee with him. It was before they moved to Angel Grove; she barely knows this kitchen. Before Sarah. Before her mother's 'love the sinner, hate the sin' speech. Would she tell him about Kimberly over coffee in this kitchen one day? The madly-in-love part of her wants to. Wants his acceptance, his happiness for her. She looks at the crucifix around his neck and bites down the words, heavy on her tongue. Not today, but maybe, _maybe_. 

Their conversation drifts to the twins’ winter soccer league and her thoughts drift to Billy. Fatherless. Her own father shifts, the morning light catching the grays starting to pepper his hair, and Trini is overcome with the guilt of years of wasted mornings. She stands, suddenly, and with the same recklessness that drove her to jump a cavern, to slam Rita against her wall, hugs her father from the side. “I love you, Papa.”

He stiffens against her. Then pats her arm awkwardly. Trini swallows, self-conscious, anxious, and lets him go. He flips a page. Sips. “If you want money I don’t have any.”

Trini rolls her eyes with a scoff. “I don’t want money.”

He looks up at that, face etched with familiar disappointment. She knows that look too well. Knows that any progress that she made in mending their relationship has been undone. “You in trouble?” A frustrated sigh. “You didn’t get suspended, did you? Your mama’s still upset about the Saturday detention thing-“

“No, Papa. I was just saying it to say it.”

A pause. “Oh. Okay.”

She waits, trying to read him while he reads the paper, desperately wanting him to say it back. Tries to remember what his voice sounds like, what his eyes look like, when he does. Her father sips his coffee.

…

Trini tosses her backpack into the back seat, fastens her seatbelt, and meets Kim over the center console for a quick kiss; the ache in her heart dissipating a little as soon as their lips touch. Their hands slide to the base of each other’s necks almost simultaneously as they both hold the other close; lips opening, searching, deepening the kiss. Trini pulls Kim’s lower lip between her own, nips, teasing, and Kim sighs a faint whine into her mouth. She breaks the kiss, smiling, a little proud. “School?”

Kim blinks and turns forward, hands finding the steering wheel, dazed. “Yeah... Oh, before I forget..." She reaches behind the passenger seat and pulls out a small bouquet of yellow daffodils.

Trini takes the flowers, surprised and a little uncomfortable; Kim's gifts are always more personal. "When did you have time to get me these?"

Kim shifts into gear, pulls away from the curb. "I didn't. They're from my mom. She would like to formally apologize. And have you over for dinner."

Trini inspects the bouquet, then sets it down in her lap, her stomach knotting at the thought of facing Mrs. Hart again. "When?"

Kim reaches over and finds Trini's hand, gives it a comforting squeeze. "Whenever you're ready."

"Okay." They are both quiet for a few blocks. Trini marvels at how comfortable and welcome the silence is between them, when just a few minutes ago she felt like she and her father were being suffocated by it. She squeezes Kim's fingers. “I had coffee with my dad.”

“How did that go?”

“Fine.” Trini worries her lip, tastes Kim’s lip gloss. Threads their fingers. Separates them. Threads them again. Kim gives her hand an encouraging tug, and she takes a settling breath. “Does your family… How often do you hug your parents?”

Kim barely pauses to think about it. “Most days, I guess. They’ve always been pretty affectionate.”

Trini nods. Goes back to threading their fingers. Traces Kim’s palm, her wrist, finds her pulse point and feels her girlfriend’s heartbeat. Kim lets her explore, patient, keeps her hand relaxed and pliable. “And you guys say ‘I love you?’”

“Yeah.” Kim glances at her, concerned, and laces their fingers together again, offering an anchor. “Trini, what happened?”

“Nothing.” It comes out defensive and she winces. “Sorry.” Her chest still hurts when she thinks of her father’s reaction, and she wants to stay silent, to protect herself from any more rejection. But Kim has never made fun of her feelings, has always made her feel validated. Kim is not like her parents, not like Sarah, and Trini trusts her. So she opens up, “I gave my dad a hug and told him I loved him.”

“And he hugged you back. Said it back.”

Trini tries to remember the last time her parents did either of those things. Christmas, maybe? And before that… has she hugged them in their new house? She swallows around the lump in her throat. “I think my family’s a little fucked up.” Kim’s hand tenses around the steering wheel, the leather creaking under her fingers. Trini barely notices, lost in her thoughts. She pulls her hand away and rests it in her lap, over the flowers. Stares at them without seeing. Tries to remember the last time her parents said ‘I love you’ to each other. The last time they kissed. Hugged. Held hands. “I’m not clingy, am I?”

Kim jerks the wheel, startling her, and pulls into a dirt alley that runs in between two rows of small shops. She turns off the car, jaw tight. Unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to face her girlfriend. Trini’s heartrate accelerates at the flash of anger in Kim’s eyes, but she recognizes it as Kim’s anger _for_ her; her overprotectiveness _of_ her. “Trini.” Kim reaches out and traces her temple, the anger replaced with tender concern. Waits until she looks up and holds her gaze. “You are not clingy.” She brings her other hand up and frames Trini’s face, palms on her jaw, thumbs brushing her cheeks. “You can hug and kiss me any time you want. I love how physical you are.” They both lean in, resting their foreheads together. “And I love _you_. And I’m going to keep telling you I love you until you’re sick of hearing it.”

Trini pinches her eyes closed in an effort to hold back stinging tears. “Can you come here?”

She hears the bouquet hit the back seat, feels her seatbelt slide off, and then Kim is straddling her lap, hands coming back up to cup her jaw. Lips brush her cheeks, "I love you," her nose, "I love you," her chin, "I love you." Drag down her neck, over her pulse point.

Trini wraps her hands around the tops of Kim's thighs and crowds their bodies closer, feels her skin flush with soft heat from the tips of her ears to her chest. "Kimberly." It comes out as a whisper, as a whine, and the muscles under her hands tense at the sound. Kim slides her hands into her hair, presses their chests, their hips, together, and lets her lips finally, _finally_ , find Trini's. Kim kisses her slowly, kisses her thoroughly, kisses her with soft lips and gentle teeth and a patient tongue. Their hands explore; tracing firm biceps and toned abs and smooth skin, wandering over denim, under shirts, through belt loops, until their breaths puff against lips in time with their drumming hearts.

Kim releases Trini's lip with a wet pop, scrapes her teeth along her earlobe, and Trini's hips roll. Her hands flex, digging into thigh and shoulder. "I want you, Kim."

"I want you, too." Kim nips at the sensitive skin below her jaw, runs her tongue over the mark. Leans back with a frustrated sigh. "But I don't want our first time to be in my car."

Trini leans forward, chasing her mouth. "Why not?" She smirks. "Our first kiss was in your car. It could be our thing."

Kim bites her bottom lip and groans, hand fisting in Trini's shirt. "Don't tempt me." She takes a steadying breath, holds Trini's gaze, her expression serious. "Are you sure? I don't want to rush you."

Trini nods. "I'm sure. I love you." Their next kiss is a promise, and Trini lets Kim slide off of her lap and back into the driver's seat. "We could skip first period and keep making out."

Kim drops her head onto the steering wheel and groans. "Now you're just being mean." After a few deep breaths she starts the car.

"You like it."

Kim takes her hand and kisses her knuckles. "I do."


End file.
